1 


1 


■ 


i>visioa 


^ 


S«t(e« 


I 


SOME  ACCOUNT 


OF  THE  EARLY   PART  OF  THE 


LIFE 


OF 


Elizabeth  Ashbridge, 

WHO  DIED,  IN  THE  TRUTH'S  SERVICE,  AT  THE  HOUSE 

OF  ROBERT  LECKY,  INTHE  COUNTY  OF  CARLOW, 

IRELAND,     THE   16tH   OF  5tH  MONTH, 

1755. 
WRITTEN  BY  HERSELF. 


'*  Her  sins,  which  are  many,  are  forgiven;   for  she 
loved  much."  LuJ'e,  vii,  47. 

a  A  little  leaven  leaveneth  the  whole  lump."  Gal.  r,  9. 


Philadelphia: 

PRINTED  FOR  BENJAMIN  AND   THOMAS   KITE> 
NO.  21,    SOUTH    FOURTH  STREET. 

1807. 


SOME  ACCOUNT,  Stc. 


JVLy  life  having  been  attended  with  many- 
uncommon  occurrences,  I  have  thought  pro- 
per to  make  some  remarks  on  the  dealings  of 
divine  goodness  with  me.  I  have  often  had 
cause,  with  David,  to  say,  "  It  is  good  for 
me  that  I  have  been  afflicted  j"  and  most  ear- 
nestly I  desire  that  they  who  read  the  follow- 
ing lines  may  take  warning,  and  shun  the 
evils  into  which  I  have  been  drawn. 

1  was  born  at  Middlewich,  in  Cheshire,  in 
the  year  1713,  of  honest  parents,  named  Tho- 
mas and  Mary  Sampson.  My  father  bore  a 
good  character,  but  he  was  not  so  strictly  re- 
ligious as  my  mother,  who  was  a  pattern  of 
virtue  to  me.  I  was  my  father's  only  child ; 
but  my  mother  had  a  son  and  a  daughter  by 
a  former  husband.  Soon  after  I  was  born, 
my  father  went  to  sea,  and,  following  his  pro- 

a  2 


4 
fession,  which  was  that  of  a  surgeon,  made 
many  long  voyages.  He  continued  in  his 
sea-faring  course  of  life  till  I  was  twelve  years 
old,  so  that  the  care  of  the  early  part  of  my 
education  devolved  upon  my  mother ;  and 
she  discharged  her  duty,  in  endeavouring  to 
imbue  my  mind  with  the  principles  of  virtue. 
I  have  had  reason  to  be  thankful  that  I  was 
blest  with  such  a  parent;  her  good  advice 
&nd  counsel  to  me  have  been  as  bread  cast 
upon  the  waters.  She  was  an  instructive  ex- 
ample to  all  who  knew  her,  and  generally  be- 
loved ;  but,  alas !  as  soon  as  the  time  came, 
when  she  might  reasonably  expect  the  benefit 
from  her  labours,  and  have  had  comfort  in  me, 
I  deserted  her.  In  my  childhood  I  had  an 
awful  regard  for  religion  and  religious  people, 
particularly  for  ministers,  all  of  whom  I  be- 
lieved to  be  good  men  and  beloved  of  God, 
which  I  earnestly  wished  to  be  my  own  case. 
I  had  also  great  tenderness  for  the  poor,  re- 
membering that  I  had  read  they  were  beloved 
of  the  Lord.  This  I  supposed  to  mean  such  as 
were  poor  in  temporal  things,;  whom  I  often 
visited  in  their  cottages,  and  used  to  think 
that  they  were  better  off  than  myself;  yet,  if 
I  had  money,  or  any  thing  suitable  for  a  gift, 
I  bestowed  it  on  them,  recollecting  that  they 
who  gave  to  such,  lent  unto  the  Lord.     I 


5 

made  remarks  on  those  who  pretended  to  re« 
ligion;  and,  when  I  heard  people  swear,  I 
was  troubled  ;  for  my  mother  told  me  that,  if 
I  used  any  naughty  words,  God  would  not 
love  me. 

I  observed  that  there  were  several  different 
religious"  societies ;  this  I  often  thought  of, 
and  wept  with  desires  that  I  might  be  direct- 
ed to  the  one  which  it  would  be  best  for  me 
to  join.  In  this  frame  of  mind  passed  my 
younger  years.  I  was  sometimes  guilty  of 
the  faults  common  among  children,  but  was 
always  sorry  for  what  I  had  done  amiss  ;  and, 
till  I  was  fourteen  years  of  age,  I  was  as  in- 
nocent as  most  children.  About  this  time, 
my  sorrows  (which  have  continued,  for  the 
greatest  part  of  my  life,  ever  since)  began,  by 
my  giving  way  to  a  foolish  passion,  in  setting 
my  affections  on  a  young  man,  who,  with- 
out the  leave  of  my  parents,  courted  me  till  I 
consented  to  marry  him  ;  and,  with  sorrow  of 
heart,  I  relate,  that  I  suffered  myself  to  be 
carried  off  in  the  night.  We  were  married. 
My  parents  made  all  possible  search  for  me, 
as  soon  as  I  was  missing,  but  it  was  in  vain. 
This  precipitate  act  plunged  me  into  muc& 
sorrow.  I  was  soon  smitten  with  remorse  for 
thus  leaving  my  parents,  whose  right  it  was 
to  have  disposed  of  me  to  their  content,  or 

A  3 


6 

who,  at  lease,  ought  to  have  been  consulted. 
But  I  was  soon  chastised  for  my  disobedience, 
and  convinced  of  my  error.  In  five  months, 
I  was  stripped  of  the  darling  of  my  heart,  and 
left  a  young  and  disconsolate  widow.  I  was 
now  without  a  home.  My  husband  had  deriv- 
ed his  livelihood  only  from  his  trade,  which 
was  that  of  a  stocking  weaver ;  and  my  father 
was  so  displeased  that  he  would  do  nothing 
for  me.  My  dear  mother  had  some  compas- 
sion for  me,  and  kept  me  among  the  neigh- 
bours. Afterwards,  by  her  advice,  I  went  to 
a  relation  of  hers,  at  Dublin.  We  hoped  that 
my  absence  would  soften  my  father's  rigour; 
but  he  continued  inflexible ;  he  would  not 
send  for  me  back,  and  I  dared  not  to  return 
unless  he  did. 

The  relation  I  went  to  reside  with  was  one 
of  the  people  called  Quakers.  His  habits 
were  so  very  different  to  what  I  had  been  ac- 
customed to,  that  the  visit  proved  disagreeable 
to  me.  I  had  been  brought  up  in  the  way  of 
the  Church  of  England,  and  though,  as  I 
have  said,  I  had  a  religious  education,  yet  I 
was  allowed  to  sing  and  dance,  which  my 
cousin  would  not  permit.  The  great  vivacity 
of  my  natural  disposition  would  not,  in  this 
instance,  suffer  me  to  give  way  to  the  gloomy 
tense  of  sorrow  and  conviction  ;  and  therefore 


7 
my  present  restraints  had  a  wrong  effect.  I 
became  more  wild  and  airy  than  ever;  my 
cousin  often  reproved  me  ;  but  I  then  thought 
his  conduct  was  the  result  of  singularity,  and 
would  not  bear  it,  or  be  controlled.  Having 
a  distant  relation  in  the  West  of  Ireland,  I 
went  to  him.  I  now  enjoyed  all  the  liberty  I 
wished  ;  for,  what  rendered  me  disagreeable 
to  my  other  kinsman,  was  quite  pleasing  to 
this.  Between  these  two  relations  I  spent 
three  years  and  three  months. 

While  I  was  in  Ireland,  I  contracted  an 
intimate  acquaintance  with  a  widow  and  her 
daughter,  who  were  papists.  We  conversed 
very  frequently  about  religion,  each  of  us  de- 
fending our  peculiar  tenets;  and,  though  I 
was  much  given  to  gaiety,  our  discussions 
often  made  me  thoughtful.  The  old  woman 
told  me  of  such  mighty  miracles,  done  by 
their  priests,  that  I  began  to  be  shaken  in  my 
own  belief;  and  thought  that,  if  these  things 
were  so,  they  must,  of  a  truth,  be  the  apostles' 
successors.  She  perceived  the  state  of  my 
mind,  and,  one  day,  exclaimed  with  rapture, 
"  Oh !  if  I  can,  under  God,  be  the  happy 
instrument  of  converting  you  to  the  holy  Ca- 
tholic Faith,  all  the  sins  that  ever  I  committed 
will  be  forgiven."  Sometimes  I  frequented 
her  place  of  worship,  but  none  of  my  rela- 


8 

tions  knew  what  was  the  motive.  The  affair 
went  so  far,  that  the  priest  came  to  converse 
with  me.  Being  young,  and  my  judgment 
weak,  I  was  ready  to  believe  what  he  said ; 
yet  resolved  not  blindly  to  adopt  their  creed. 
I  thought  that,  if  their  articles  of  faith  were 
sound,  they  would  not  be  against  my  know- 
ing them  ;  and,  therefore,  the  next  time  I  saw 
the  priest,  I  told  him,  that  I  had  some  inten- 
tion of  becoming  one  of  his  flock,  but  wished 
<first  to  know  what  I  must  agree  to.  He  an- 
swered, that  I  must  first  confess  my  sins  to 
him  ;  and  gave  me  till  the  next  day  to  consi- 
der of  them.  I  was  not  averse  to  this,  con- 
scious of  having  done  nothing  for  which  any 
one  could  harm  me ;  and  thinking  that,  if 
what  he  had  said  was  true,  the  confession 
would  be  for  my  good.  When  he  came  again, 
I  told  all  that  I  could  remember  ;  which,  for 
my  part,  I  thought  bad  enough  ;  but  he  con- 
sidered me,  he  said,  the  most  innocent  crea- 
ture that  ever  made  confession  to  him.  When 
I  had  done,  he  took  a  book,  which  he  read, 
and  told  me,  I  was  to  swear  I  believed,  if  I 
joined  them.  I  shall  not  trouble  my  reader 
with  the  recital  of  its  ridiculous  contents. 
What  principally  made  me  sick  of  my  new 
intention  was,  that  I  was  to  swear  I  considered 
the  Pretender  to  be  king  James's  son,  and  the 


9 

true  heir  of  the  crown  of  England ;  and  that 
all  who  died  out  of  the  pale  of  the  popish 
church,  would  be  damned.  These  doctrines 
startled  me  ;  I  hesitated,  and  desired  time  to 
take  them  into  consideration  ;  but,  before  I 
saw  the  priest  again,  a  change  of  circum- 
stances freed  me  from  the  necessity  of  giving 
him  an  answer. 

My  father  still  keeping  me  at  such  a  dis- 
tance, I  thought  myself  quite  excluded  from 
his  affections,  and  therefore  resolved  not  to 
return  home.  I  became  acquainted  with  a 
gentlewoman,  lately  arrived  from  Pennsylva- 
nia ;  she  was  intending  to  return,  and,  as  I 
had  an  uncle  (my  mother's  brother)  in  this 
province,  I  soon  agreed  with  her  for  my  pas- 
sage. I  was  ignorant  of  the  nature  of  an  in- 
denture, and  suffered  myself  to  be  bound. 
This  was  done  privately,  that  it  might  not  be 
found  out.  As  soon  as  it  was  over,  she  invit- 
ed me  to  see  the  vessel  in  which  I  was  to  sail, 
I  readily  consented,  and  we  went  on  board, 
where  there  was  another  young  woman,  who, 
as  I  afterwards  found,  was  of  a  respectable 
family,  and  had  been  brought  there  in  the 
same  way  as  myself.  I  was  pleased  with  the 
thought  that  I  should  have  such  an  agreeable 
companion  in  my  voyage.  While  we  were 
busy  conversing,  my  conductor  went  on  shore, 


10 

and,  when  I  wished  to  go,  I  was  not  permit- 
ted.  I  now  saw  I  was  kidnapped.  I  was 
kept  a  prisoner  in  the  ship  three  weeks,  at  the 
end  of  which  time  my  companion  was  found 
out  by  her  friends,  who  fetched  her  away  ; 
and,  by  her  information,  my  friends  sent  the 
water-bailiff,  -who  took  me  on  shore.  I  was 
kept  close  for  two  weeks,  but  at  length  found 
means  to  get  away.  I  was  so  filled  with  the 
thoughts  of  going  to  America  that  I  could 
not  give  up  the  design ;  and,  meeting  the 
captain,  I  inquired  when  he  sailed  j  he  told 
me,  and  I  went  on  board. 

There  was,  in  the  ship,  sixty  Irish  servants, 
and  several  English  passengers.  The  latter 
were  unacquainted  with  the  Irish  language, 
which  I  had  taken  much  pains  to  learn,  and 
understood  pretty  well.  Twenty  of  the  ser- 
vants belonged  to  the  gentlewoman  above- 
mentioned,  who,  with  a  young  man,  (her  hus- 
band's brother,)  went  with  us.  While  we 
were  on  the  coast  of  Ireland,  where  the  wind 
kept  us  some  weeks,  I  overheard  the  Irish 
contriving  how  they  should  be  free,  when 
they  got  to  America.  To  accomplish  their 
design,  they  concluded  to  rise  and  kill  the 
ship's  crew,  and  all  the  English,  and  to  ap- 
point the  above-mentioned  young  man  to  na- 
vigate  the  vessel.     But,  overhearing   thei» 


11 

conversation,  I  discovered  their  barbarous 
intention  to  the  captain,  who  acquainted  the 
English  with  it.  The  next  day,  we  bore  for 
the  shore,  and,  at  a  short  distance  from  the 
cove  of  Cork,  lowered  sail  and  dropt  anchor, 
under  pretence  that  the  wind  was  not  fair  for 
us  to  stand  our  course.  The  boat  was  hoisted 
out,  and  the  passengers  were  invited  to  go 
and  divert  themselves  on  shore.  Along  with 
others  went  the  ringleader  of  the  Irish.  This 
was  all  that  was  desired.  The  rest  left  him, 
and  came  on  board.  The  captain  immedi- 
ately ordered  his  men  to  weigh  anchor,  and 
hoist  sail.  There  were  great  outcries  for  the 
young  man  on  shore,  but  he  said  that  the 
wind  had  freshened  up,  and  he  would  not 
stay  for  his  own  son.  Thus  were  the  designs 
of  those  Irish  servants  rendered  abortive,  in  a 
way  they  did  not  suspect,  and  which  it  was 
thought  advisable  to  keep  a  secret,  lest  they 
should  injure  me.  At  length,  however,  they 
discovered  that  I  understood  their  speech,  by 
my  smiling  at  a  story  they  were  telling.  From 
this  time  they  divised  many  ways  to  do  me 
a  mischief,  for  which  several  of  them  were 
punished. 

On  the  1 5th  of  the  7th  month,  which  was 
nine  weeks  sfter  we  left  Dublin,  we  arrived  at 
New  York.   Here  I  was  betrayed  by  the  very 


12 

men  whose  lives  I  had  preserved.  The  cap- 
tain caused  an  indenture  to  be  made,  and 
threatened  me  with  a  gaol,  if  I  refused  to  sign 
it.  I  told  him  that  I  could  find  means  to  sa- 
tisfy him  for  my  passage  without  becoming 
bound.  He  replied,  that  I  might  take  my 
choice,  either  to  sign  the  indenture  he  showed 
me,  or  the  one  I  had  signed  in  Ireland  should 
be  in  force.  In  a  fright,  I  signed  the  former ; 
for  I  had,  by  this  time,  learned  the  character 
of  the  woman  who  first  induced  me  to  think 
of  going  to  America  ;  she  was  a  vile  creature, 
and  I  feared  that,  if  I  fell  into  her  hands,  I 
should  be  used  ill. 

In  two  weeks  I  was  sold.  At  first  I  had  not 
much  reason  to  complain  of  the  treatment  I 
received  ;  but,  in  a  short  time,  a  difference,  in 
v/hich  I  was  innocent,  happened,  that  set  my 
master  against  me,  and  rendered  him  inhu- 
man. It  will  be  impossible  for  me  to  convey 
an  adequate  idea  of  the  sufferings  of  my  ser- 
vitude. Though  my  father  was  not  rich,  yet, 
in  his  house,  I  lived  well,  and  I  had  been  used 
to  little  but  my  school ;  but,  now,  I  found  it 
would  have  been  better  for  me  if  I  had  been 
brought  up  with  less  indulgence.  I  was  not 
allowed  decent  clothes  ;  I  was  obliged  to  per- 
form the  meanest  drudgery,  and  even  to  go 
barefoot  in  the  snow.     I  suffered  the  utmost 


13 

hardship  that  my  body  was  able  to  bear,  and 
the  effect  produced  on  my  mind  had  nearly 
been  my  ruin  for  ever. 

My  master  seemed  to  be  a  very  religious 
man,  taking  the  sacrament  (so  called)  regu- 
larly, and  praying  every  night  in  his  family  ; 
unless  his  prayer-book  could  not  be  found,  for 
he  never  prayed  without  it  to  my  knowledge. 
His  example,  however,  made  me  sick  of  his 
religion  :  for,  though  I  had  but  little  religion 
myself,  I  had  some  idea  of  what  religious 
people  ought  to  be.  Respecting  religion,  my 
opinions  began  to  waver ;  I  even  doubted  whe- 
ther there  was  any  such  thing  ;  and  began  to 
think  that  the  convictions  I  had  felt,  from  my 
infancy,  were  only  the  prejudices  of  educa- 
tion. These  convictions  seemed  now  to  be 
lost ;  and,  for  some  months,  I  do  not  remem- 
ber to  have  felt  them.  I  became  hardened, 
and  was  ready  to  conclude  that  there  was  no 
God.  The  veneration  I  had  felt  for  religious 
men,  in  my  infancy,  was  entirely  gone ;  I 
now  looked  upon  them  in  a  very  different 
manner.  My  master's  house  was  a  place  of 
great  resort  for  the  clergy  ;  and,  sometimes, 
those  who  came  from  a  distance  lodged  with 
him.  The  observations  I  made  on  their  con- 
duct confirmed  me  in  my  atheistical  opinions. 
They  diverted  themselves,   in  the  evening, 


14 

with  cards  and  songs,  and,  a  few  moments 
after,  introduced  prayers  and  singing  psalms 
to  Almighty  God.  Often  did  I  say  to  myself, 
"  If  there  be  a  God,  he  is  a  pure  Being,  and 
will  not  hear  the  prayers  of  polluted  lips." 

But  he  who  hath,  in  an  abundant  manner, 
shown  mercy  to  me,  (as  will  be  seen  in  the 
sequel,)  did  not  long  suffer  my  mind  to  be  per- 
plexed with  doubts  ;  but,  in  a  moment,  when 
my  feet  were  on  the  brink  of  the  bottomless 
pit,  plucked  me  back. 

To  one  woman,  and  to  no  other,  I  told  the 
nature  of  the  difference  which  had  happened, 
two  years  before,  between  my  master  and  me. 
By  her  means,  he  heard  of  it,  and,  though 
he  knew  it  was  true,  he  sent  for  the  town's 
whipper  to  correct  me.  I  was  called  in.  He 
never  asked  me  whether  I  had  told  any  such 
thing,  but  ordered  me  to  strip.  My  heart 
was  ready  to  burst.  I  would  as  freely  have 
given  up  my  life  as  have  suffered  such  igno- 
miny. "  If,"  said  I,  "  there  be  a  God,  be 
graciously  pleased  to  look  down  on  one  of 
the  most  unhappy  creatures,  and  plead  my 
cause  ;  for  thou  knowest  that,  what  I  have 
related,  is  the  truth  ;"  and,  had  it  not  been  for 
a  principle  more  noble  than  he  was  capable  of, 
I  would  have  told  it  to  his  wife.  Then,  fix- 
ing  my  eyes  on  the  barbarous  man,  I  said, 


15 

"  Sir,  if  you  have  no  pity  on  me,  yet,  for  my 
father's  sake,  spare  me  from  this  shame  ;  (for 
he  had  heard  several  ways  of  my  parents ;) 
and,  if  you  think  I  deserve  such  punishment, 
do  it  yourself."  He  took  a  turn  over  the 
room,  and  bade  the  whipper  go  about  his 
business.  Thus  I  came  off  without  a  blow  ; 
but  my  character  seemed  to  be  lost.  Many 
reports  of  me  were  spread,  which  I  bless  God 
were  not  true.  I  suffered  so  much  cruelty 
that  I  could  not  bear  it ;  and  was  tempted  to 
put  an  end  to  my  miserable  life.  I  listened  to 
the  temptation,  and,  for  that  purpose,  went 
into  the  garret  to  hang  myself.  Now  it  was 
I  felt  convinced  that  there  was  a  God.  As  I 
entered  the  place,  horror  and  trembling  seized 
me  ;  and,  while  I  stood  as  one  in  amazement) 
I  seemed  to  hear  a  voice  saying,  "  There  is  a 
hell  beyond  the  grave."  I  was  greatly  asto- 
nished, and  cried,  "  God  be  merciful,  and 
enable  me  to  bear  whatsoever  thou,  in  thy  pro- 
vidence, shall  bring  or  suffer  to  come  upon 
me."  I  then  went  down  stairs,  but  let  no  one 
know  what  I  had  been  about. 

Soon  after  this  I  had  a  dream  ;  and,  though 
some  make  a  ridicule  of  dreams,  this  seemed 
very  significant  to  me,  and  therefore  I  shall 
mention  it.  I  thought  I  heard  a  knocking  at 
the  door,  by  which,  when  I  had  opened  it, 

b  2 


16 

there  stood  a  grave  woman,  holding  in  her 
right  hand  a  lamp  burning,  who,  with  a  so- 
lid countenance,  fixed  her  eye  upon  me  and 
said,  "  I  am  sent  to  tell  thee  that,  if  thou 
wilt  return  to  the  Lord  thy  God,  who  created 
thee,  he  will  have  mercy  on  thee,  and  thy 
lamp  shall  not  be  put  out  in  obscurity."  Her 
lamp  then  flamed,  in  an  extraordinary  man- 
ner ;  she  left  me,  and  I  awoke. 

But,  alas  !  I  did  not  give  up  to  the  "  hea- 
venly vision,"  as  I  think  I  may  call  it.  I 
was  nearly  caught  in  another  snare,  of  the 
most  dangerous  nature.  I  was  esteemed  skil- 
ful at  singing  and  dancing,  in  which  I  took 
great  delight.  Once,  falling  in  with  a  com- 
pany of  players,  who  were  then  in  New  York, 
they  took  a  great  fancy,  as  they  said,  to  me, 
and  invited  me  to  become  an  actress  amongst 
them.  They  added,  that  they  would  find 
means  to  release  me  from  my  cruel  servitude, 
and  I  should  live  like  a  lady.  The  proposal 
pleased  me,  and  I  took  no  small  pains  to  qua- 
lify myself  for  them,  in  reading  their  play- 
books,  even  when  I  should  have  slept.  Yet, 
on  reflection,  I  demurred  at  taking  this  new 
step,  when  I  came  to  consider  what  my  father 
would  think  of  it,  who  had  forgiven  my  diso- 
bedience in  marrying,  and  had  sent  for  me 
home,  earnestly  desiring  to  see  me  again. 


17 

But  my  proud  heart  would  not  suffer  me  to  re- 
turn, in  so  mean  a  condition,  and  I  preferred 
bondage.  However,  when  I  had  served  about 
three  years,  I  bought  out  the  remainder  of  my 
time,  and  worked  at  my  needle,  by  which  I 
could  maintain  myself  handsomely.  But, 
alas  !  I  was  not  sufficiently  punished.  I  re- 
leased myself  from  one  cruel  servitude,  and, 
in  the  course  of  a  few  months,  entered  into 
another  for  life,  by  marrying  a  young  man 
who  fell  in  love  with  me  for  my  dancing  ;  a 
poor  motive  for  a  man  to  chuse  a  wife,  or 
a  woman  a  husband.  For  my  part,  I  was  in 
love  with  nothing  I  saw  in  him  ;  and  it  seems 
unaccountable  to  me,  that  after  refusing  se- 
veral offers,  both  in  this  country  and  Ireland, 
I  should  at  last  marry  one  I  did  not  esteem. 
My  husband  was  a  schoolmaster.  A  few  days 
after  we  were  married,  we  went  from  New 
York  to  a  place  called  Westerly,  in  Rhode 
Island,  where  he  had  engaged  to  keep  a  school. 
With  respect  to  religion  he  was  much  like 
myself,  without  any  ;  and,  when  intoxicated, 
would  use  the  worst  of  oaths.  I  do  not  men- 
tion this  to  expose  him,  but  to  show  the  effect 
it  had  on  myself.  I  saw  myself  ruined,  as  I 
thought,  in  being  joined  to  a  man  I  did  not 
love,  and  who  was  a  pattern  of  no  good  to 
me.   We  thus  seemed  hastening  towards  dc- 

b  3 


18 

struction,  when  I  concluded,  if  I  was  not  for- 
saken of  heaven,  to  alter  my  course  of  life. 
To  fix  my  affection  on  the  divine  being,  and 
not  to  love  my  husband,  seemed  inconsistent. 
I  daily  desired,  with  tears,  that  my  affections 
might  be  directed  in  a  right  manner,  and  can 
say  that,  in  a  little  time,  my  love  was  sincere. 
I  resolved  to  do  my  duty  to  God,  and,  ex- 
pecting I  must  come  to  the  knowledge  of  it 
by  the  scriptures,  I  read  these  sacred  writings 
with  a  determination  to  follow  their  directions. 
The  more  I  read,  the  more  uneasy  I  grew, — 
especially  about  baptism.  I  had  reason  to 
believe  I  had  been  sprinkled  in  my  infancy, 
because,  at  the  age  of  thirteen,  I  was  confirm- 
ed by  the  bishop  ;  yet  I  could  not  discover  a 
precedent  for  the  practice.  In  the  course  of 
reading,  I  came  to  the  passage  where  it  is  said, 
"  He  that  believes  and  is  baptized,"  Sec — . 
Here  I  observed  that  belief,  of  which  I  was 
not  capable  when  sprinkled,  went  before  bap- 
tism. I  conversed  frequently  with  the  se- 
venth day  bap:ists  that  lived  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood, and,  at  length,  thinking  it  only  a 
real  duty,  was,  in  the  winter,  baptized  by 
one  of  their  teachers.  I  did  not  strictly  join 
with  them,  though  I  began  to  think  the  se- 
venth day  the  true  sabbath,  and,  for  a  time, 
kept  it.     My  husband  did  Rot  oppose  me, 


19 

for  he  saw  I  grew  more  affectionate  to  him ; 
and,  as  yet,  I  did  not  refuse  to  sing  and  dance, 
when  he  asked  me,  though  this  way  of  amus- 
ing myself  did  not  yield  me  so  much  satis- 
faction as  formerly. 

My  husband  and  I  now  formed  the  plan  of 
going  to  England,  and,  for  this  purpose,  we 
went  to  Boston,  where  we  found  a  vessel 
bound  to  Liverpool.  We  agreed  for  our  pas- 
sage, and  expected  to  sail  in  about  two  weeks  ; 
but,  in  the  mean  time,  a  gentleman  hired  the 
vessel  to  carry  himself  and  his  attendants  to 
Fayal,  and  take  no  other  passengers.  There 
being  no  other  ship  near  sailing,  we,  for  that 
time,  gave  up  our  design,  though  we  continued 
at  Boston  several  weeks.  My  mind  was  still 
not  satisfied,  with  regard  to  religion.  I  had 
reformed  my  conduct,  so  as  to  be  accounted, 
by  those  who  knew  me,  a  sober  woman  ;  yet  I 
was  not  content,  for  I  expected  to  find  the 
sweets  of  such  a  change  ;  and,  though  several 
thought  me  religious,  I  dared  not  to  think  so 
myself.  I  conversed  with  people  of  all  socie- 
ties, as  opportunity  offered,  several  of  whom 
thought  I  was  of  their  persuasion  ;  however,  I 
joined  strictly  with  none,  but  resolved  never 
to  leave  off  searching  till  I  found  the  truth. 
This  was  in  the  twenty-second  year  of  my  age. 
While  we  were  in  Boston,  I  went,  one  day, 


20 

to  the  Quaker's  meeting,  where  I  heard  a  Wo- 
man friend  speak,  at  which  I  was  a  little  sur- 
prised. I  had  been  told  of  women's  preach- 
ing, but  had  never  heard  it  before  ;  and  I 
looked  upon  her  with  pity  for  her  ignorance, 
and  contempt  for  her  practice  ;  saying  to  my- 
self, "  I'm.  sure  you're  a  fool,  and,  if  ever  I 
turn  Quaker,  (which  will  never  be,)  I  will 
never  be  a  preacher."  Thus  was  my  mind 
occupied  while  she  was  speaking.  When 
she  had  done,  a  man  stood  up,  who  I  could 
better  bear.  He  spoke  sound  doctrine  on  good 
Joshua's  resolution,  «  As  for  me  and  my 
house  we  will  serye  the  Lord."  After  sit- 
ting down,  and  remaining  silent  awhile,  he 
went  to  prayer,  which  was  attended  with 
something  so  awful  and  affecting,  that  it  drew 
tears  from  my  eyes. 

After  leaving  Boston,  my  husband  being 
given  to  rambling,  which  was  very  disagree- 
able to  me,  we  went  to  Rhode  Island,  and 
from  thence  to  the  east  end  of  Long  Island, 
where  he  hired  to  keep  a  school.  This  place 
was  principally  settled  by  Presbyterians,  and 
I  soon  became  acquainted  with  the  most  reli- 
gious among  them.  My  poverty  was  no  bar 
to  my  reception  with  people  of  the  best  credit, 
with  whom  I  frequently  conversed  ;  but,  the 
more  I  became  acquainted  with  them,  the 


21 
worse  I  liked  their  opinions.  Many  tempta- 
tions, in  the  mean  time,  assaulted  m>* unset- 
tled mind.  Having  been  abroad  one  day,  I 
perceived  that  the  people,  in  whose  house  we 
had  a  room,  had  left  some  flax  in  an  apartment 
through  which  I  was  to  pass;  at  the  sight  of  it, 
I  was  tempted  to  steal  some  to  make  thread.  I 
went  to  it,  and  took  a  small  bunch  in  my  hand, 
upon  which  I  was  smitten  with  such  remorse 
that  I  laid  it  down  again,  saying,  "  Lord 
keep  me  from  so  vile  an  action."  But  the 
temptation  to  steal  became  stronger  than  be- 
fore ;  and  I  took  the  bunch  of  flax  into  my 
room ;  when  I  came  there,  horror  seized  me, 
and,  with  tears,  I  cried  out,  "  O,  thou  God 
of  mercy,  enable  me  to  abstain  from  this  vile 
action."  I  then  took  the  flax  back,  and  felt 
that  pleasure  which  is  only  known  to  those 
who  have  resisted  temptation. 

.My  husband  having  hired  further  up  the 
Island,  we  changed  our  residence,  and  the 
nearest  place  of  worship  belonging  to  a  con- 
gregation of  the  Church  of  England,  which, 
on  the  whole,  I  liked  best,  I  attended  it. 

A  fresh  exercise,  of  a  very  peculiar  kind, 
now  came  upon  me.  It  was  in  the  second 
month  :  I  thought  myself  sitting  by  a  fire,  in 
company  with  several  others,  among  whom 


22 

was  my  husband  ;  when  there  arose  a  thunder 
gust,  and  a  noise,  loud  as  from  a  mighty- 
trumpet,  pierced  my  ears  with  these  words : 
"Oh  eternity!  eternity,  the  endless 
term  of  long  eternity  !  I  was  exceedingly 
astonished,  and,  while  I  was  sitting  as  in  a 
trance,  I  beheld  a  long  roll,  written  in  black 
characters,  hearing,  at  the  same  time,  a  voice 
saying,  "  These  are  thy  sins,"  and  afterwards 
adding,  "  And  the  blood  of  Christ  is  not  suffi- 
cient to  wash  them  out.  This  is  shown  thee 
that  thou  may  est  confess  thy  damnation  to  be 
just,  and  not  in  order  that  thou  shouldst  be 
forgiven."  I  sat  speechless  ;  at  last  I  got  up 
trembling,  and  threw  myself  on  the  bed.  Tho 
company  thought  my  indisposition  proceeded 
from  a  fright  occasioned  by  the  thunder  ;  but 
it  was  of  another  kind.  For  several  months  I 
was  almost  in  a  state  of  despair,  and  if,  at 
any  time,  I  endeavoured  to  hope,  or  lay  hold 
of  any  gracious  promise,  the  Tempter  would 
insinuate  that  it  was  now  too  late ;  that  the  day 
of  mercy  was  over ;  and  that  I  should  only 
add  to  my  sins  by  praying  for  pardon,  and 
provoke  divine  vengeance  to  make  of  me  a 
monument  of  wrath.  I  was,  at  it  were,  al- 
ready in  torment.  I  could  not  sleep,  and  ate 
but  little.     I  became  extremely  melancholy, 


23 
and  took  no  delight  in  any  thing.     Had  all 
the  world  been  mine,  I  would  have  given  it 
gladly  for  one  glimpse  of  hope. 

My  husband  was  shocked  to  see  me  so 
changed.  I,  who  once  used  to  divert  him 
with  singing  and  dancing,  in  which  he  great- 
ly delighted,  could  not,  since  I  grew  religi- 
ous, do  it  any  longer.  My  singing  was  turned 
into  mourning,  and  my  dancing  into  lamen- 
tation. 

My  nights  and  days  were  one  continued 
scene  of  sorrow ;  but  I  let  no  one  know  the 
state  of  my  mind.  In  vain  did  my  husband 
use  all  the  means  in  his  power  to  divert  my 
melancholy.  The  wound  was  too  deep  to  be 
healed  with  any  thing  short  of  the  true  balm 
of  Gilead.  For  fear  of  evil  spirits  I  dared  not, 
nor  would  my  husband  suffer  me,  to  go  much 
alone  ;  and,  if  I  took  up  the  bible,  he  would 
take  it  from  me,  exclaiming,  "  How  you  are 
altered  ;  you  used  to  be  agreeable  company, 
but  now  I've  no  comfort  in  you."  I  endea- 
voured to  bear  all  with  patience,  expecting 
that  I  should  soon  have  to  bear  more  than  man 
could  inflict. 

I  went  to  the  priest,  to  see  if  he  could  re- 
lieve me  ;  but  he  was  a  stranger  to  my  case. 
He  advised  me  to  take  the  sacrament,  and 
amuse  myself  with  innocent  diversions.     He 


24 

also  lent  me  a  book  of  prayers,  which  he  said 
were  suited  to  my  condition.  But  all  was  to 
no  purpose ;  as  to  the  sacrament,  I  thought 
myself  in  a  \'ery  unfit  state  to  receive  it  wor- 
thily ;  as  for  prayers,  it  appeared  to  me  that, 
when  I  could  pray  acceptably,  I  should  be 
enabled  to  do  it  without  form  ;  and  diversions 
were  burthensome.  My  husband,  with  a 
view  to  alleviate  my  grief,  persuaded  me  to  go 
to  what  is  called  the  raising  of  a  building, 
where  much  company  was  collected,  but  it 
had  a  contrary  effect.  An  officer  came  to 
summons  a  jury  to  sit  on  the  body  of  a  man 
who  had  hanged  himself;  on  receiving  which 
information  a  voice  within  me  seemed  to  ad- 
dress me  thus  : — Thou  shalt  be  the  next  to 
come  to  a  like  end  ;  for  thou  art  not  worthy  to 
die  a  natural  death.  For  two  months,  I  was 
daily  tempted  to  destroy  myself,  often  so 
strongly  that  I  could  scarcely  resist.  Before 
I  ventured  to  walk  out  alone  I  left  behind  me 
every  article  which,  in  an  unguarded  moment, 
T  might  use  for  this  purpose  ;  fervently  desir- 
ing, at  the  same  time,  that  God  would  pre- 
serve me  from  taking  that  life  which  he  had 
given,  and  which  he  would  have  made  happy, 
if  I  had  accepted  the  offers  of  his  grace, 
by  regarding  the  convictions  he  had  favoured 
me  with  from  my  youth.     During  all  this 


25 
agony  of  mind,  I  could  not  shed  a  tear. 
My  heart  was  hardened,  and  my  life  was  mi- 
serable ;  but  God,  in  his  infinite  mercy,  deli- 
vered my  soul  from  this  thraldom.  One 
night,  as  I  lay  in  bed,  bemoaning  my  condi- 
tion, I  cryed  "  Oh  my  God,  in  thy  mercy, 
I  beseech  thee,  look  down  upon  me  for 
Christ's  sake,  who  hath  promised  that  all 
manner  of  sins  and  blasphemies  shall  be  for- 
given. Lord,  if  thou  wilt  be  graciously  pleas- 
ed to  extend  this  promise  to  me,  an  unworthy 
creature,  trembling  before  thee,  in  all  that 
thou  shalt  command  I  will  obey  thee."  In  an 
instant  my  heart  was  tendered,  and  I  dissolved 
in  a  flood  of  tears.  I  abhorred  my  past  of- 
fences, and  admired  the  mercies  of  my  God. 
I  could  now  hope  in  Christ  my  redeemer,  and 
look  upon  him  with  an  eye  of  faith.  I  expe- 
rienced what  I  believed  when  the  priest  lent 
me  his  book,  that,  when  my  prayers  would  be 
acceptable,  I  should  not  need  a  form,  which 
I  used  no  more.  I  now  took  the  sacrament, 
and  can  say  I  did  it  with  reverence  and  fear. 
Being  thus  released  from  my  deep  distress, 
I  seemed  like  another  creature,  and  went  often 
alone  without  fear.  Once,  as  I  was  abhor- 
ring myself,  in  great  humility  of  mind,  I 
seemed  to  hear  a  gracious  voice,  full  of  love, 

c 


26 
say  to  me,  "  I  will  never  forsake  thee,  only 
obey  in  what  I  shall  make  known  unto  thee." 
I  answered,  "  My  soul  doth  magnify  the  God 
of  mercy.  If  thou  wilt  dispense  thy  grace, 
the  rest  of  my  days  shall  be  devoted  to  serve 
thee ;  and,  if  it  be  thy  will  that  I  should  beg 
my  bread,  I  will  submit,  with  content,  to  thy 
providence/' 

I  now  began  to  think  of  my  relations  in 
Pennsylvania,  whom  I  had  not  yet  seen.  My 
husband  gave  me  liberty  to  visit  them,  and  I 
obtained  a  certificate  from  the  priest,  in  order 
that,  if  I  made  any  stay,  I  might  be  received 
as  a  member  of  the  church  wherever  I  came. 
My  husband  accompanied  me  to  the  Blazing  - 
star  Ferry,  saw  me  safely  over,  and  then  re- 
turned. In  my  way,  I  fell  from  my  horse, 
and,  for  several  days,  was  unable  to  travel. 
I  abode  at  the  house  of  an  honest  Dutchman, 
who,  with  his  wife,  paid  me  the  utmost  atten- 
tion, and  would  have  no  recompence  for  their 
trouble.  I  left  them  with  deep  sentiments  of 
gratitude  for  their  extraordinary  kindness, 
and  they  charged  me,  if  ever  I  came  that  way 
again,  to  lodge  with  them.  I  mention  this, 
because  I  shall  have  occasion  to  allude  to  it 
hereafter. 

When  I  came  to  Trent-town  Ferry,  I  felt 


27 

no  small  mortification  on  hearing  that  my  re- 
lations were  all  Quakers,  and,  what  was  worst 
of  all,  that  my  aunt  was  a  preacher.  I  was 
exceedingly  prejudiced  against  this  people, 
and  often  wondered  how  they  could  call  them- 
selves Christians.  I  repented  my  coming, 
and  was  almost  inclined  to  turn  back  ;  yet,  as 
I  was  so  far  on  my  journey,  I  proceeded, 
though  I  expected  but  little  comfort  from  my 
visit.  How  little  was  I  aware  it  would  bring 
me  to  the  knowledge  of  the  truth  ! 

I  went  from  Trent-town  to  Philadelphia  by 
water,  and  from  thence  to  my  uncle's  on 
horseback.  My  uncle  was  dead,  and  my 
aunt  married  again ;  yet,  both  she  and  her 
husband  received  me  in  the  kindest  manner. 
I  had  scarcely  been  three  hours  in  the  house, 
before  my  opinion  of  these  people  began  to  al- 
ter. I  perceived  a  book  lying  upon  the  table, 
and,  being  fond  of  reading,  took  it  up ;  my 
aunt  observed  me,  and  said,  "Cousin,  that 
is  a  Quaker's  book."  She  saw  I  was  not  a 
Quaker,  and  supposed  I  would  not  like  it.  I 
made  her  no  answer,  but  queried  with  myself, 
what  can  these  people  write  about  ?  I  have 
heard  that  they  deny  the  scriptures,  and  have 
no  other  bible  than  George  Fox's  Journal, — 
denying,  also,  all  the  holy  ordinances.     But* 

r   °> 


28 

before  I  had  read  two  pages,  my  heart  burned 
within  me,  and,  for  fear  I  should  be  seen,  I 
went  into  the  garden.  I  sat  down,  and,  as 
the  piece  was  short,  read  it  before  I  returned, 
though  I  was  often  obliged  to  stop  to  give 
vent  to  my  tears.  The  fulness  of  my  heart 
produced  the  involuntary  exclamation  of, 
"  My  God,  must  I,  if  ever  I  come  to  the 
knowledge  of  thy  truth,  be  of  this  man's 
opinion,  who  has  sought  thee  as  I  have  done  ; 
and  must  I  join  this  people,  to  whom,  a  few 
hours  ago,  I  preferred  the  papists.  O,  thou 
God  of  my  salvation,  and  of  my  life,  who 
hath  abundantly  manifested  thy  long  suffering 
and  tender  mercy,  in  redeeming  me  as  from 
the  lowest  hell,  I  beseech  thee  to  direct  me  in 
the  right  way,  and  keep  me  from  error  ;  so 
will  I  perform  my  covenant,  and  think  no- 
thing too  near  to  part  with  for  thy  name's 
sake.  O,  happy  people,  thus  beloved  of 
God  !"  After  having  collected  myself,  I  wash- 
ed my  face,  that  it  might  not  be  perceived  I 
had  been  weeping.  In  the  night  I  got  but 
little  sleep ;  the  enemy  of  mankind  haunted 
me  with  his  insinuations,  by  suggesting  that  I 
was  one  of  those  that  wavered,  and  not  stead- 
fast in  faith  ;  and  advancing  several  texts  of 
scripture  against  me,  as  that,  in  the  latter 


29 
days,  there  should  be  those  who  would  deceive 
the  very  elect ;    that  of  such  were  the  people 
I  was  among,  and  that  I  was  in  danger  of 
being   deluded.       Warned   in   this   manner, 
(from  the  right  source  as  I  thought,)  I  resolved 
to  be  aware  of  those  deceivers,  and,  for  some 
weeks,  did   not   touch    one   of  their   books. 
The  next  day,  being  the  first  of  the  week,  I 
was  desirous  of  going  to  church,  which  was 
distant  about  four  miles ;  but,  being  a  stran- 
ger, and   having   no  one   to   go  with  me,  I 
gave  up  all  thoughts  of  that,  and,  as  most  of 
the  family  were  going  to  meeting,  I  went  there 
with  them.     As  we  sat  in  silence,  I  looked 
over  the  meeting,  and  said  to  myself,  "  How 
like  fools  these  people  sit ;  how  much  better 
would   it  be  to  stay  at  home,  and  read  the 
Bible,  or  some  good  book,  than  come  here 
and  go  to  sleep.''  As  for  me  I  was  very  drow- 
sy ;    and,    while    asleep,    had   nearly  fallen 
down.  This  was  the  last  time  I  ever  fell  asleep 
in  a  meeting.     I  now  began  to  be  lifted  up 
with  spiritual  pride,  and  to  think  myself  bet- 
ter than  they ;    but  this  disposition  of  mind 
did  not  last  long.     It  may  seem  strange  that, 
after  living  so  long  with  one  of  this  society  at 
Dublin,  I  should  yet  be  so  much  a  stranger  to 
them.     In  answer,  let  it  be  considered  that, 

c  5 


30 

While  I  was  there,  I  never  read  any  of  their 
books,  nor  went  to  one  meeting  ;  besides,  I 
had  heard  such  accounts  of  them,  as  made 
me  think  that,  of  all  societies,  they  were  the 
worst.  But  he  who  knows  the  sincerity  of 
the  heart,  looked  on  my  weakness  with  pity  ; 
I  was  permitted  to  see  my  error,  and  shown 
that  these  were  the  people  I  ought  to  join. 

A  few  weeks  afterwards,  there  was  an  after- 
noon meeting  at  my  uncle's,  at  which  a  mi- 
nister named  William  Hammans  was  present. 
I  was  highly  prejudiced  against  him  when 
he  stood  up,  but  I  was  soon  humbled  ;  for 
he  preached  the  gospel  with  such  power  that 
I  was  obliged  to  confess  it  was  the  truth.  But, 
though  he  was  the  instrument  of  assisting 
me  out  of  many  doubts,  my  mind  was  not 
wholly  freed  from  them.  The  morning  before 
this  meeting  I  had  been  disputing  with  my 
uncle  about  baptism,  which  was  the  subject 
handled  by  this  minister,  who  removed  all  my 
seruples  beyond  objection,  and  yet  I  seemed 
loath  to  believe  that  the  sermon  I  had  heard 
proceeded  from  divine  revelation.  I  accused 
my  aunt  and  uncle  of  having  spoken  of  me  to 
the  friend ;  but  they  cleared  themselves,  by 
telling  me,  that  they  had  not  seen  him,  since 
ir>y  coming,  until  he  came  into  the  meeting. 


31 

I  then  viewed  him  as  the  messenger  of  God 
to  me,  and,  laying  aside  my  prejudices,  open- 
ed my  heart  to  receive  the  truth  ;  the  beauty 
of  which  was  shown  to  me,  with  the  glory 
of  those  who  continued  faithful  to  it.  I  had 
also  revealed  to  me  the  emptiness  of  all  sha- 
dows and  types,  which,  though  proper  in 
their  day,  were  now,  by  the  coming  of  the 
Son  of  God,  at  an  end,  and  everlasting  right- 
eousness, which  is  a  work  in  the  heart,  was 
to  be  established  in  the  room  thereof.  I  was 
permitted  to  see  that  all  I  had  gone  through 
was  to  prepare  me  for  this  day ;  and  that 
the  time  was  near,  when  it  would  be  required 
of  me,  to  go  and  declare  to  others  what  the 
God  of  mercy  had  done  for  my  soul ;  at 
which  I  was  surprised,  and  desired  to  be 
excused,  lest  I  should  bring  dishonour  to  the 
truth,  and  cause  his  holy  name  to  be  evil 
spoken  of. 

Of  these  things  I  let  no  one  know.  I  fear- 
ed discovery,  and  did  not  even  appear  like  a 
friend. 

I  now  hired  to  keep  school,  and,  hearing 
of  a  place  for  my  husband,  I  wrote,  and  de- 
sired him  to  come,  though  I  did  not  let  him 
know  how  it  was  with  me. 

I  loved  to  go  to  meetings,  but  did  not  love 


32 
to  be  seen  going  on  week-days,  and  therefore 
went  to  them,  from  my  school,  through  the 
woods.  Notwithstanding  all  my  care,  the 
neighbours,  (who  were  not  friends,)  soon  be- 
gan to  revile  me  with  the  name  of  Quaker ; 
adding,  that  they  supposed  I  intended  to  be 
a  fool,  and  turn  preacher.  Thus  did  I  re- 
ceive the  same  censure,  which,  about  a  year 
before,  I  had  passed  on  one  of  the  handmaids 
of  the  Lord  in  Boston.  I  was  so  weak,  that 
I  could  not  bear  the  reproach.  In  order  to 
change  their  opinion,  I  went  into  greater  ex- 
cess of  apparel  than  I  had  freedom  to  do, 
even  before  I  became  acquainted  with  friends. 
In  this  condition  I  continued  till  my  husband 
came,  and  then  began  the  trial  of  my  faith. 

Before  he  reached  me,  he  heard  I  was  turn- 
ed Quaker ;  at  which  he  stamped,  and  said, 
"  I  had  rather  have  heard  she  was  dead,  well 
as  I  love  her ;  for,  if  it  be  so,  all  my  comfort 
is  gone.  He  then  came  to  me  ;  it  was  after 
an  absence  of  four  months  ;  I  got  up  and  said 
to  him,  "  My  dear,  I  am  glad  to  see  thee." 
At  this,  he  flew  into  a  great  rage,  exclaiming, 
"  The  devil  thee,  thee,  thee,  don't  thee  me." 
I  endeavoured,  by  every  mild  means,  to  pa- 
cify him  ;  and,  at  length,  got  him  fit  to  speak 
to  my  relations.  As  soon  after  this  as  we  were 


33 

alone,  he  said  to  me,  "  And  so  I  see  your 
Quaker  relations  have  made  you  one  ;"  I  re- 
plied, that  they  had  not,  (which  was  true,)  I 
never  told  them  how  it  was  with  me.  He  said 
he  would  not  stay  amongst  them  ;  and,  hav- 
ing found  a  place  to  his  mind,  hired,  and 
came  directly  back  to  fetch  me,  walking,  in 
one  afternoon,  thirty  miles  to  keep  me  from 
meeting  the  next  day,  which  was  first  day. 
He  took  me,  after  resting  this  day,  to  the 
place  where  he  had  hired,  and  to  lodgings  he 
had  engaged  at  the  house  of  a  churchwarden. 
This  man  was  a  bitter  enemy  of  Friends,  and 
did  all  he  could  to  irritate  my  husband  against 
them. 

Though  I  did  not  appear  like  a  friend,  they 
all  believed  me  to  be  one.  When  my  hus- 
band and  he  used  to  be  making  their  diver- 
sions and  reviling,  I  sat  in  silence,  though 
now  and  then  an  involuntary  sigh  broke  from 
me  ;  at  which  he  would  say,  "  There,  did  not 
I  tell  you  your  wife  was  a  Quaker,  and  she 
will  become  a  preacher."  On  such  an  occa- 
sion as  this,  my  husband  once  came  up  to  me, 
in  a  great  rage,  and  shaking  his  hand  over 
me,  said,  "  You  had  better  be  hanged  in  that 
day."  I  was  seized  with  horror,  and  again 
plunged  into  despair,  which  continued  nearly 


34 

three  months.  I  was  afraid  that,  by  denying 
the  Lord,  the  heavens  would  be  shut  against 
me.  I  walked  much  alone  in  the  woods,  and 
there,  where  no  eye  saw,  or  ear  heard  me, 
lamented  my  miserable  condition.  Often 
have  I  wandered,  from  morning  till  night, 
without  food.  I  was  brought  so  low  that  my 
life  became  a  burden  to  me ;  and  the  devil 
seemed  to  vaunt  that,  though  the  sins  of 
my  youth  were  forgiven  me,  yet  now  I  had 
committed  an  unpardonable  sin,  and  hell 
would  inevitably  be  my  portion,  and  my 
torments  would  be  greater  than  if  I  had 
hanged  myself  at  first. 

In  the  night,  when,  under  this  painful  dis- 
tress of  mind,  I  could  not  sleep,  if  my  hus- 
band perceived  me  weeping,  he  would  revile 
me  for  it.  At  length,  when  he  and  his  friend 
thought  themselves  too  weak  to  overset  mc, 
he  went  to  the  priest  at  Chester,  to  inquire 
what  he  could  do  with  me.  This  man  knew 
I  was  a  member  of  the  Church,  for  I  had 
shown  him  my  certificate.  His  advice  was, 
to  take  me  out  of  Pennsylvania,  and  settle  in 
some  place  where  there  were  no  Quakers. 
My  husband  replied,  he  did  not  care  where 
we  went,  if  he  could  but  restore  me  to  my 
natural  liveliness  of  temper.     As  for  me,  I 


35 

had  no  resolution  to  oppose  their  proposals, 
nor  much  cared  where  I  went.  I  seemed  to 
have  nothing  to  hope  for.  I  daily  expected 
to  be  made  a  victim  of  divine  wrath,  and  was 
possessed  with  the  idea  that  this  would  be  by 
thunder. 

When  the  time  of  removal  came,  I  was 
not  permitted  to  bid  my  relations  farewell ; 
and,  as  my  husband  was  poor,  and  kept  no 
horse,  I  was  obliged  to  travel  on  foot.  We 
came  to  Wilmington,  fifteen  miles,  and  from 
thence  to  Philadelphia  by  water.  Here  we 
stopt  at  a  tavern,  where  I  became  the  spectacle 
and  discourse  of  the  company.  My  husband 
told  them  his  wife  had  become  a  Quaker,  and 
he  designed,  if  possible,  to  find  out  a  place 
where  there  was  none  :  (thought  I,)  I  was 
once  in  a  condition  to  deserve  that  name,  but 
now  it  is  over  with  me.  O  that  I  might, 
from  a  true  hope,  once  more  have  an  oppor- 
tunity to  confess  the  truth  ;  though  I  was 
sure  of  all  manner  of  cruelties,  I  would  not 
regard  them.  Such  were  my  concerns,  while 
he  was  entertaining  the  company  with  my 
story,  in  which  he  told  them  that  I  had  been 
a  good  dancer,  but  now  he  could  get  me  nei- 
ther to  dance  or  sing.  One  of  the  company 
then  started  up,  and  said,  "  I'll  fetch  a  fid- 


36 
die,  and  we'll  have  a  good  dance  ;"  a  propo- 
sal with  which  my  husband  was  pleased. 
When  the  fiddle  was  brought,  my  husband 
came  and  said  to  me,  "  My  dear,  shake  off 
that  gloom,  and  let  us  have  a  civil  dance ; 
you  would,  now  and  then,  when  you  were  a 
good  churchwoman,  and  that's  better  than  a 
stiff  Quaker."  I  had  taken  up  the  reso- 
lution not  to  comply  with  his  request,  what- 
ever might  be  the  consequence  ;  this  I  let  him 
know,  though  I  durst  say  little,  for  fear  of 
his  choleric  temper.  He  pulled  me  round 
the  room,  till  the  tears  fell  from  my  eyes,  at 
the  sight  of  which  the  musician  stopt,  and  said 
"  I'll  play  no  more ;  let  your  wife  alone." 
There  was  a  person  in  company  that  came 
from  Freehold,  in  East  Jersey,  who  said,  "  I 
see  your  wife's  a  Quaker,  but,  if  you'll  take 
my  advice  you  need  not  go  so  far  as  you  in- 
tend ;  come  and  live  with  us  ;  we'll  soon  cure 
her  of  her  Quakerism,  and  we  want  a  school- 
master and  schoolmistress  too."  He  consent- 
ed, and  a  happy  turn  it  was  for  me,  as  will 
shortly  be  seen.  The  answer  of  peace  was 
afforded  me,  for  refusing  to  dance  ;  I  rejoiced 
more  than  if  I  had  been  made  mistress  of 
much  riches,  and,  with  tears,  prayed,  "  Lord, 
I  dread  to  ask,  and  yet  without  thy  gracious 


pardon,  I  am  miserable.  I  therefore  fall  down 
before  thy  throne,  imploring  mercy  at  thy 
hand.  O  Lord,  once  more,  I  beseech  thee, 
try  my  obedience,  and  then,  in  whatsoever 
thou  commandest,  I  will  obey  thee,  and  not 
fear  to  confess  thee  before  men."  My  cries 
were  heard,  and  it  was  shown  to  me,  that  he 
delights  not  in  the  death  of  a  sinner.  My 
-soul  was  again  set  at  liberty,  and  I  could 
praise  him. 

In  our  way  to  Freehold,  we  visited  the 
kind  Dutchman,  whom  I  have  mentioned  in  a 
former  part  of  this  narrative.  He  made  us 
welcome,  and  invited  us  to  pass  a  day  or  two 
with  him.  During  our  stay,  we  went  to  a 
large  meeting  of  Presbyterians,  held  not  only 
for  worship,  but  business,  in  particular,  the 
trial  of  one  of  their  priests,  who  had  been 
charged  with  drunkenness,  was  to  come  on. 
I  perceived  such  great  divisions  among  the 
people,  respecting  who  should  be  their  shep- 
herd, that  I  pitied  them.  Some  insisted  on 
having  the  old  offender  restored ;  others  wish- 
ed to  have  a  young  man  they  had  on  trial  for 
some  weeks  ;  others,  again,  were  for  sending 
to  New  England  for  a  minister.  In  reply, 
one  who  addressed  himself  to  the  chief  spea- 
ker observed,  "  Sir,  when  we  have  been  at  the 

D 


expense  (which  will  not  be  trifling)  of  fetch- 
ing this  gentleman  from  New  England,  per- 
haps  he'll  not  stay  with  us."     "  Don't  you 
know  how  to  make  him  stay  ?"   said  another. 
«  No  Sir."     "  I'll  tell  you  ;  give  him  a  large 
salary,  and  I'll  engage  he'll  stay."    I  listened 
attentively  to  the  debate,  and  most  plainly  it 
appeared  to  me,  that  these  mercenary  crea- 
tures were  all  actuated  by  one  and  the  same 
motive,  which  was,  not  the  regard  for  souls, 
but  the  love  of  money.     One  of  these  men, 
called  a  reverend  divine,  whom  these  people 
almost  adored,  had,   to  my  knowledge",    left 
his  flock  in  Long  Island,    and  removed  to 
Philadelphia,  where  he  could  get  more  money. 
I  have  myself  heard  some  on  the  Island  say 
that  they  had  almost  empoverished  themselves 
in  order  to  keep  him  ;   but,  being  unable  to 
equal  what  he  was  offered   at  Philadelphia, 
he  left  them.    Surely  these  are  the  shepherds 
who  regard  the  fleece  more  than  the  fleck, 
and  in  whose  mouths  are  lies,  when  they  say 
that  they   are  the  ambassadours   of  Christ, 
whose  command  it  is,  "  Freely  ye  have  re- 
ceived,  freely  give." 

In  our  way  to  Freehold,  as  we  came  to 
Stony  Brook,  my  husband  turned  towards  me, 
and  tauntingly  said,  "  Here's  one  of  Satan's 


39 

synagogues,  don't  you  long  to  be  in  it ;  I 
hope  to  see  you  cured  of  your  new  religion." 
A  little  further  on,  we  came  to  a  large  run  of 
water,  over  which  there  was  no  bridge,  and, 
being  strangers,  we  knew  no  way  to  avoid 
passing  through  it.  He  carried  over  our 
clothes,  which  we  had  in  bundles  ;  and,  tak- 
ing off  my  shoes,  I  walked  through  in  my 
stockings.  It  was  in  the  12th  month;  the 
weather  was  very  cold,  and  a  fall  of  snow  lay 
on  the  ground.  It  was  the  concern  of  my 
heart,  that  the  Lord  would  sanctify  all  my 
afflictions  to  me,  and  give  me  patience  to 
bear  them.  After  walking  nearly  a  mile,  we 
came  to  a  house,  which  proved  to  be  a  sort 
of  tavern.  My  husband  called  for  some  spi- 
rituous liquors,  and  I  got  some  weakened 
cider  mulled,  which  rendered  me  extremely 
sick  ;  so  that,  after  we  were  a  little  past  the 
house,  being  too  faint  to  proceed,  I  fell  down. 
"  What's  the  matter  now?"  said  my  hus- 
band, «  what,  are  you  drunk  ?  Where's  your 
religion  now  ?"  He  knew  I  was  not  drunk,  and, 
at  that  time,  I  believe  he  pitied  me,  although 
he  spoke  in  this  manner.  After  I  was  a  little 
recovered,  wc  went  on,  and  came  to  another 
tavern,  where  we  lodged.  The  next  day, 
as  we  journied,    a  young  man,  driving  an 

d  2 


40 

empty  cart,  overtook  us.  We  asked  him  to 
let  us  ride,  and  he  readily  granted  the  request. 
I  had  known  the  time  when  I  would  not  have 
been  seen  in  a  cart,  but  my  proud  heart  was 
humbled,  and  I  did  not  now  regard  the  look 
of  it.  This  cart  belonged  to  a  man  in  Shrews- 
bury, and  was  to  go  through  the  place  of  our 
destination.  We  soon  had  the  care  of  the 
team  to  ourselves,  through  a  failure  of  the  dri- 
ver, and  arrived  with  it  at  Freehold.  My 
husband  would  have  had  me  stay  here,  while 
he  went  to  see  the  team  safe  home ;  I  told 
him,  No ;  since  he  had  led  me  through  the 
country  like  a  vagabond,  I  would  not  stay 
behind  him.  We  therefore  went  together, 
and  lodged,  that  night,  at  the  house  of  the 
owner  of  the  cart.  The  next  day,  on  our 
return  to  Freehold,  we  met  a  man  riding  full 
speed,  who,  stopping,  said  to  my  husband, 
"  Sir,  are  you  a  schoolmaster  ?"'  He  answered, 
"  Yes."'  "  I  am  come,"  replied  the  stranger, 
**  to  tell  you  of  two  new  schoolhouses,  two 
miles  apart,  each  of  which  wants  a  master." 
How  this  person  came  to  hear  of  us,  who 
arrived  but  the  night  before,  I  never  knew. 
I  was  glad  he  was  not  called  a  Quaker,  lest 
it  should  have  been  thought  a  plot  by  my 
husband,    to   whom    I    turned    and    sai<3j — 


41 
"  My  dear,  look  on  me  with  pity,  if  thou 
hast  any  affection  left  for  me,  which  I  hope 
thou  hast,  for  I  am  not  conscious  of  having 
done  any  thing  to  alienate  it.  Here  is  an 
opportunity  to  settle  us  both,  and  I  am  willing 
to  do  all  in  my  power,  towards  getting  an 
honest  livelihood."  After  a  short  pause,  he 
consented  to  go  with  the  young  man.  In  our 
way,  we  came  to  the  house  of  a  worthy  Friend, 
who  was  a  preacher,  though  we  did  not  know 
it.  I  was  surprised  to  see  the  people  so  kind 
to  us.  We  had  not  been  long  in  the  house, 
till  we  were  invited  to  lodge  there  for  the 
night,  being  the  last  of  the  week.  My  hus- 
band accepted  the  invitation,  saying,  "  My 
wife  has  had  a  tedious  travel,  and  I  pity  her.*' 
These  kind  expressions  affected  me,  for  I 
heard  them  very  seldom.  The  friend's  kind- 
ness could  not  proceed  from  my  appearing 
like  a  Quaker,  because  I  had  not  yet  altered 
my  dress.  The  woman  of  the  house,  after  we 
had  concluded  to  stay,  fixed  her  eyes  upon 
me,  and  said,  "  I  believe  thou  hast  met  with 
a  deal  of  trouble,"  to  which  I  made  but  little 
answer.  My  husband  observing  they  were  of 
that  sort  of  people,  whom  he  had  so  much 
endeavoured  to  shun,  gave  us  no  opportunity 
for  discourse  that  night ;  but,  the  next  morn- 

d  5 


42 

ing,  I  let  my  friend  know  a  little  of  my  situ- 
ation . 

When  meeting-time  came,  I  longed  to  go, 
but  dared  not  to  ask  my  husband's  leave.  As 
the  Friends  were  getting  ready  themselves, 
they  asked  him  if  he  would  accompany  them, 
observing,  that  they  knew  those  who  were  to 
be  his  employers,  and,  if  they  were  at  meeting, 
would  speak  to  them.  He  consented.  The 
woman  Friend  then  said,  "  And  wilt  thou  let 
thy  wife  go  too  ;"  which  request  he  denied  ; 
but  she  answered  his  objections  so  prudently 
that  he  could  not  be  angry,  and  at  last  con- 
sented. I  went  with  joy,  and  a  heavenly 
meeting  it  was.  My  spirit  did  rejoice  in  the 
God  of  my  salvation.  May  I  ever,  in  humi- 
lity, preserve  the  remembrance  of  his  tender 
mercies  to  me. 

By  the  end  of  the  week,  we  got  settled  in 
our  new  situation.  We  took  a  room,  in  a 
friend's  house,  one  mile  from  each  school, 
and  eight  from  the  meeting-house.  I  now 
deemed  it  proper  to  let  my  husband  see  I  was 
determined  to  join  with  friends.  When  first 
day  came,  I  directed  myself  to  him  in  this 
manner :  "  My  dear,  art  thou  willing  to  let 
me  go  to  meeting  V*  He  flew  into  a  rage,  and 
replied  "  No  you  sha'n't."     Speaking  firmly, 


43 
I  told  him,  "  That,  as  a  dutiful  wife,  I  was 
ready  to  obey  all  his  lawful  commands  ;  but, 
when  they  imposed  upon  my  conscience,  I 
could  not  obey  him.  I  had  already  wronged 
myself,  in  having  done  it  too  long ;  and 
though  he  was  near  to  me,  and,  as  a  wife 
ought,  I  loved  him,  yet  God,  who  was  nearer 
than  all  the  world  to  me,  had  made  me  sen- 
sible that  this  was  the  way  in  which  I  ought 
to  go.  I  added,  that  this  was  no  small  cross 
to  my  own  will ;  but  I  had  given  up  my  heart, 
and  I  trusted  that  He  who  called  for  it  would 
enable  me,  for  the  remainder  of  my  life,  to 
keep  it  steadily  devoted  to  his  service  ;  and  I 
hoped  I  should  not,  on  this  account,  make 
the  worse  wife."  I  spoke,  however,  to  no 
purpose  ; — he  continued  inflexible. 

I  had  now  put  my  hand  to  the  plough,  and 
resolved  not  to  draw  back  ;  I  therefore  went 
without  leave.  I  expected  he  would  immedi- 
ately follow  and  force  me  back,  but  he  did  not. 
I  called  at  the  house  of  one  of  the  neighbours, 
and,  getting  a  girl  to  show  me  the  way,  I 
went  on  rejoicing,  and  praising  God  in  my 
heart. 

Thus,  for  some  time,  I  had  to  go  eight 
miles  on  foot  tomeeting,which  I  never  thought 
hard.  My  husband  had  a  horse,  but  he  would 


44 
not  suffer  me  to  ride  on  it  ;"nor,  when  my  shoes 
were  worn  out,  would  he  let  me  have  a  new 
pair  ;  but,  though  he  hoped,  on  this  account, 
to  keep  me  from  meeting,  it  did  not  hinder 
me  : — I  have  tied  them  round  with  strings  to 
keep  them  on. 

Finding  that  all  the  means  he  had  yet  used 
could  not  alter  my  resolutions,  he  several  times 
struck  me  with  severe  blows.  I  endeavoured 
to  bear  all  with  patience,  believing  that  the 
time  would  come  when  he  would  see  I  was  in 
the  right.  Once  he  came  up  to  me,  took  out 
his  penknife,  and  said,  "  If  you  offer  to  go  to 
meeting  to-morrow,  with  this  knife  I'll  crip- 
ple you,  for  you  shall  not  be  a  Quaker."  I 
made  him  no  answer.  In  the  morning,  I  set 
out  as  usual ;  he  did  not  attempt  to  harm  me. 
Having  despaired  of  recovering  me  himself, 
he  fled,  for  help,  to  the  priest,  whom  he 
told,  that  I  had  been  a  very  religious  woman, 
in  the  way  of  the  Church  of  England,  of 
which  I  was  a  member,  and  had  a  good  certi- 
ficate from  Long  Island  ;  that  I  was  now 
bewitched,  and  had  turned  Quaker,  which 
almost  broke  his  heart ;  and,  therefore,  he  de- 
sired that,  as  he  was  one  who  had  the  care  of 
souls,  he  would  come  and  pay  me  a  visit,  and 
use  his  endeavours  to  reclaim  me,  which  he 


45 
hoped,  by  the  blessing  of  God,  would  be  done. 
The  priest  consented,  and  fixed  the  time  for 
his  coming,  which  was  that  day  two  weeks, 
as  he  said  he  could  not  come  sooner.  My 
husband  came  home  extremely  pleased,  and 
told  me  of  it.  I  replied,  with  a  smile,  I 
trusted  I  should  be  enabled  to  give  a  reason 
for  the  hope  within  me  ;  yet  I  believed,  at 
the  same  time,  that  the  priest  would  never 
trouble  himself  about  me,  which  proved  to  be 
the  case.  Before  the  day  he  appointed  came, 
it  was  required  of  me,  in  a  more  public  man- 
ner, to  confess  to  the  world  what  I  was.  I 
felt  myself  called  to  give  up  to  prayer  in  meet- 
ing. I  trembled,  and  would  freely  have  given 
up  my  life  to  be  excused.  What  rendered 
the  required  service  harder  on  me  was,  that  I 
was  not  yet  taken  under  the  care  of  friends  ; 
and  was  kept  from  requesting  to  be  so,  for  fear 
I  should  bring  a  scandal  on  the  society.  I 
begged  to  be  excused  till  I  had  joined,  and 
then  I  would  give  up  freely.  The  answer 
was,  "  I  am  a  covenant-keeping  God,  and 
the  word  that  I  spake  to  thee,  when  I  found 
thee  in  distress,  even  that  I  would  never  for- 
sake thee,  if  thou  wouldst  be  obedient  to  what 
I  should  make  known  unto  thee,  I  will  assu- 
redly make  good.   If  thou  refusest,  my  spirit 


46 

shall  not  always  strive.  Fear  not,  I  will 
make  way  for  thee  through  all  thy  difficult'] es, 
which  shall  be  many,  for  my  name's  sake  ; 
but,  be  faithful,  and  I  will  give  thee  a  crown 
of  life."  To  this  language  I  answered  "  Thy 
will,  O  God,  be  done ;  I  am  in  thy  hand, 
do  with  me  according  to  thy  word  j"  and  I 
then  prayed. 

This  day,  as  usual,  I  had  gone  to  meeting 
on  foot.  While  my  husband  (as  he  after- 
wards told  me)  was  lying  on  the  bed,  these 
words  crossed  his  mind  :  "  Lord,  where  shall 
I  fly  to  shun  thee,"  &c.  upon  which  he  arose, 
and,  seeing  it  rain,  got  the  horse  and  set 
off  to  fetch  me,  arriving  just  as  the  meet- 
ing broke  up.  I  got  on  horseback  as  quickly 
as  possible,  lest  he  should  hear  I  had  been 
speaking ;  he  did  hear  of  it  nevertheless,  and, 
as  soon  as  we  were  in  the  woods,  began  with 
saying,  "  Why  do  you  mean  thus  to  make 
my  life  unhappy  ?  What,  could  you  not  be 
a  Quaker,  without  turning  fool  in  this  man- 
ner ?"  I  answered  in  tears,  "  My  dear,  look 
on  me  with  pity,  if  thou  hast  any ;  canst 
thou  think  that  I,  in  the  bloom  of  my  days, 
would  bear  all  that  thou  knowest  of,  and  much 
that  thou  knowest  not  of,  if  I  did  not  feel  it 
my  duty."     These  words  touched  him,  and; 


47 
he  said,  "  Well,  I'll  e'en  give  you  up ;  I 
see  it  wont  avail  to  strive ;  if  it  be  of  God  I 
cannot  overthrow  it;  and,  if  of  yourself,  it 
will  soon  fall."  I  saw  the  tears  stand  in  his 
eyes,  at  which  I  was  overcome  with  joy,  and 
began  already  to  reap  the  fruits  of  my  obedi- 
ence. But  my  trials  were  not  yet  over.  The 
time  appointed  for  the  priest  to  visit  me  arri- 
ved, but  no  priest  appeared.  My  husband 
went  to  fetch  him,  but  he  refused,  saying  he 
was  busy,  which  so  displeased  my  husband 
that  he  never  went  to  hear  him  again,  and,  for 
some  time,  went  to  no  place  of  worship. 

My  faith  was  now  assaulted  in  another  way, 
so  strongly,  that  all  my  former  trials  were  but 
trifling  to  it.  This  exercise  came  upon  me 
unexpectedly,  by  hearing  a  woman  speak  of 
a  book  she  had  read,  in  which  it  was  asserted 
that  Christ  was  not  the  Son  of  God.  A  voice 
within  me  seemed  to  answer  "  No  more  he  is, 
it's  all  a  fancy,  and  the  contrivance  of  men." 
Thus  again  was  I  filled  with  inexpressible 
trouble,  which  continued  three  weeks  ;  and 
again  did  I  seek  desolate  places,  where  I 
might  make  my  moan.  I  have  lain  whole 
nights  without  sleep.  I  thought  myself  de- 
serted of  God,  but  did  not  let  go  my  trust 
in  him.     I  kept  alive  a  hope  that  He  wh© 


48 

had  delivered  me  as  it  were  out  of  the  paw  oi" 
the  bear,  and  the  jaws  of  the  lion,  would  in 
his  own  good  time,  deliver  me  from  this 
temptation  also.  This  was,  at  length,  my 
experience ;  and  I  found  the  truth  of  his 
words,  that  all  things  shall  work  together  for 
the  good  of  those  who  love  and  fear  him. 
My  present  exercises  were  to  prepare  me  for 
further  services  in  his  cause ;  and  it  is  neces- 
sary for  his  ministers  to  experience  all  condi- 
tions, that  they  may  thereby  be  abler  to  speak 
to  them. 

This  happened  just  after  my  first  appea- 
rance as  a  minister,  and  friends  had  not  been 
to  talk  with  nie.  They  did  not  well  know 
what  to  do,  till  I  had  appeared  again,  which 
was  not  for  some  time,  when  the  Monthly 
Meeting  appointed  four  friends  to  pay  me  a 
visit.  They  left  me  well  satisfied  with  the 
conference,  and  I  joined  the  society.  My 
husband  still  went  to  no  place  of  worship. 
One  day  he  said  to  me,  "  I  would  go  to  meet- 
ing, only  I'm  afraid  I  shall  hear  your  clack, 
which  I  cannot  bear."  I  used  no  persuasions. 
When  meeting-time  came,  he  got  the  horse, 
took  me  behind  him,  and  went.  For  several 
months,  if  he  saw  me  offer  to  rise,  he  went 
cut ;  till,  one  day,  I  rose  before  he  was  aware 


49 

and  then,  as  he  afterwards  owned,  he  wab 
ashamed  to  do  it. 

From  this  time,  he  left  off  the  practice, 
and  never  hindered  me  from  going  to  meeting. 
Though  he  did  not  take  up  the  cross,  yet  his 
judgment  was  convinced ;  and,  sometimes, 
melting  into  tears,  he  would  say  to  me,  "  My 
dear,  I  have  seen  the  beauty  there  is  in  the 
truth,  and  that  thou  hast  followed  the  right 
way,  in  which  I  pray  God  to  preserve  thee." 
I  told  him,  that  I  hoped  He  who  had  given 
me  strength  would  also  favour  him,  "  O," 
said  he,  "  I  cannot  bear  the  reproach  thou 
dost,  to  be  called  turn-coat,  and  become  a 
laughing-stock  to  the  world;  but  I'll  no  longer 
hinder  thee."  This  I  considered  a  favour, 
and  a  little  hope  remained  that  my  prayers, 
on  his  account,  would  be  heard. 

We  lived  in  a  small  house  by  ourselves, 
which,  though  mean,  and  though  we  had 
little  to  put  in  it,  our  bed  being  no  better 
than  chaff,  I  was  truly  content.  The  only 
desires  I  had  were  for  my  own  preservation, 
and  to  be  blessed  with  the  reformation  of  my 
husband.  He  was  connected  with  a  set  of 
men  whom  he  feared  would  make  game  of  him* 
which  indeed  they  already  did ;  asking  him 
when  he  designed  to  commence  preacher,  for 


50 

they  saw  he  intended  to  turn  Quaker,  and  seem- 
ed to  love  his  wife  better  since  she  became  one 
than  before.  They  used  to  come  to  our  house, 
and  provoked  him  to  sit  up  and  drink  with 
them,  sometimes  till  near  day,  while  I  have 
been  sorrowing  in  a  stable.  Once,  as  I  sat  in 
this  condition,  I  heard  him  say  to  his  com- 
pany, «  I  can't  bear  any  longer  to  afflict  my 
poor  wife  in  this  manner ;  for,  whatever  you 
may  think  of  her,  I  do  believe  she's  a  good 
woman."  He  then  came  to  me  and  said, 
"  Come  in,  my  dear,  God  has  given  thee  a 
deal  of  patience  :  I'll  put  an  end  to  this  prac- 
tice." This  was  the  last  time  they  sat  up  at 
night. 

My  husband  now'  thought  that  if  he  was 
in  any  place  where  it  was  not  known  he  had 
been  so  bitter  against  friends,  he  could  do 
better.  I  objected  to  this,  fearing  it  would 
not  be  for  his  benefit.  Frequently,  in  a  bro- 
ken and  affectionate  manner,  he  condemned 
his  ill  usage  of  me.  I  answered,  that  I  hoped 
it  had  been  for  my  good,  and  therefore  de- 
sired he  would  not  be  afflicted  on  that  account. 
According  to  the  measure  of  grace  received, 
I  did  what  I  could,  both  by  example  and  pre- 
cept, for  his  good.  My  advice  was  for  him 
to  stay  where  he  was,   as  I  was  afraid  be 


51 

would  grow  weaker  in  his  good  resolutions, 
if  he  removed. 

All  I  could  say  would  not  avail.  Hearing 
of  a  place  at  Borden-town,  he  went  thither, 
but  was  not  suited.  He  next  removed  to 
Mount  Holly,  where  he  settled.  We  had 
each  of  us  a  good  school ;  we  soon  got  our- 
house  pretty  well  furnished,  and  might  have 
done  very  well.  Nothing  seemed  wanting  to 
complete  my  happiness,  except  the  reforma- 
tion of  my  husband,  which  I  had  much  rea- 
son to  doubt  I  should  not  see  soon.  It  fell 
out  according  to  my  fears.  He  addicted 
himself  much  to  drinking,  and  grew  worse 
than  before.  Sorrow  was  again  my  lot,  I 
prayed  for  patience  to  bear  my  afflictions, 
and  to  submit  to  the  dispensations  of  Provi- 
dence. I  murmured  not ;  nor  do  I  recollect 
that  I  ever  uttered  any  harsh  expressions 
except  on  one  occasion.  My  husband  com- 
ing home  a  little  intoxicated,  (a  state  in  which 
he  was  very  fractious,)  and,  finding  me  at 
work  by  a  candle,  he  put  it  out,  fetching  me, 
at  the  same  time,  a  box  on  the  ear,  and  say- 
ing, M  You  don't  earn  your  light."  At  this 
unkind  usage,  which  I  had  not  been  used  to 
for  the  last  two  years,  I  was  somewhat  angry, 
and  said,  "  Thou  art  a  vile  man."   He  struck 

e  2 


52 

me  again ;  but  my  anger  had  cooled,  and  I 
Teceived  the  blow  without  so  much  as  a  word 
in  return.  This  also  displeased  him,  and  he 
went  on  in  a  distracted  like  manner,  uttering 
such  expressions  of  despair  as,  he  believed  he 
was  predestined  to  damnation,  and  he  did  not 
care  how  soon  God  struck  him  dead.  I  said 
very  little,  till,  at  length,  in  the  bitterness  of 
my  soul,  I  broke  out  into  these  expressions : 
"  Lord,  look  down  on  my  afflictions,  and 
deliver  me  by  some  means  or  other."  My 
prayer  was  granted,  but  in  such  a  manner 
that  I  thought  it  would  have  killed  me.  He 
went  to  Burlington,  where  he  got  drunk,  and 
inlisted  to  go  as  a  common  soldier  to  Cuba, 
in  the  year  1740.  I  had  drunk  many  bitter 
cups,  but  this  seemed  the  bitterest  of  them  all. 
A  thousand  times  I  blamed  myself  for  making 
such  a  request,  which  I  was  afraid  had  dis- 
pleased God,  who  had,  in  displeasure,  grant- 
ed it  for  my  punishment. 

I  have  since  had  cause  to  believe  that  he 
was  benefited  by  his  rash  act,  as,  in  the  ar- 
my, he  did  what  he  could  not  at  home  ; — he 
suffered  for  the  testimony  of  truth.  When 
they  came  to  prepare  for  an  engagement,  he 
refused  to  fight ;  he  was  whipt,  and  brought 
before  the  general,  who  asked  him,  why  he 


53 

inlisted  if  he  would  not  fight.  "  I  did  it," 
said  he,  "  in  a  drunken  frolic,  when  the  devil 
had  the  better  of  me  ;  but  now  my  judgment 
is  convinced  I  ought  not  to  fight,  neither  will 
I,  whatever  I  suffer.  I  have  but  one  life,  and 
you  may  take  that  if  you  please,  for  I'll  never 
take  up  arms."  He  adhered  to  this  resolution. 
By  their  cruel  usage  of  him  in  consequence, 
he  was  so  much  disabled  that  the  general  sent 
him  to  Chelsea  Hospital,  near  London.  With- 
in nine  months  afterwards,  he  died  at  this 
place,  and  I  hope  made  a  good  end. 

Having  been  obliged  to  say  much  of  his  ill 
usage  to  me,  I  have  thought  it  my  duty  to  say 
what  I  could  in  his  favour.  Although  he  was 
so  bad,  I  never  thought  him  the  worst  of 
men.  If  he  had  suffered  religion  to  have  had 
its  perfect  work,  I  should  have  been  happy  in 
the  lowest  situation  of  life.  I  have  had  cause 
to  bless  God,  for  enabling  me,  in  the  station 
of  a  wife,  to  do  my  duty,  and  now  that  I  am 
a  widow,  I  submit  to  his  will.  May  I  still 
be  preserved  by  the  arm  of  Divine  Power ; 
may  I  never  forget  the  tender  mercies  of  my 
God,  the  remembrance  of  which  often  boweth 
my  soul  in  humility  before  his  throne,  and  I 
cry,  "  Lord !  what  was  I,  that  thou  shouldst 
have  revealed  to  my  soul  the  knowledge  of 

E  5 


54 

thy  truth,  and  have  done  so  much  for  one 
who  deserved  thy  displeasure  ?  Mayst  thou, 
O  God,  he  glorified,  and  I  abased.  It  is  thy 
own  works  that  praise  thee  ;  and,  of  a  truth, 
to  the  humble  soul,  thou  makest  every  bitter 
thing  sweet. 


The  foregoing  account  was  written  by  Eliz- 
abeth Ashbridge  herself;  the  few  particulars 
which  follow,  were  written  by  her  last  hus- 
band, and  sent  along  with  it. 

Her  husband  had  been  gone  two  or  three 
years  before  she  heard  of  his  death.  He  left 
her  nearly  eighty  pounds  in  debt,  which,  by 
law,  she  was  not  obliged  to  pay,  for  want  of 
effects  ;  yet,  as  several  creditors  complained, 
and  said  they  would  not  have  trusted  him,  if 
it  had  not  been  for  her  sake,  she  engaged  to 
satisfy  them  all,  as  fast  as  she  could.  She  set- 
tled steadily  to  the  business  of  school-keeping, 
with  which,  and  her  needle,  she  maintained 
herself  handsomely.  She  gradually  paid  off 
the  above  debts,  and  had  nearly  discharged 
them  all  during  her  widowhood,  though  she 


5* 
travelled  much,  in  the  mean  time,  as  a  mi- 
nister. 

In  the  ninth  month,  1746,  we  were  married 
at  Burlington,  West  Jersey.  The  company 
of  each  other  was  dear  and  delightful ;  but 
the  time  came  when  we  must  part.  Suffici- 
ently convinced  that  her  Lord  and  Master 
called  for  her  services  abroad,  my  heart  was 
willing  to  give  up  the  darling  object  of  its 
love.  Though  it  has  pleased  the  Divine  Will 
to  remove  her,  without  indulging  my  longing 
desire  to  see  her  again,  yet,  fully  satisfied  that 
she  is  called  from  the  troubles  of  time  to  a 
happy  eternity,  I  am  resigned,  and  enjoy  a 
grateful  composure  of  mind.  She  left  home 
the  11th  of  the  5th  month,  1753,  and  died, 
in  Ireland,  the  16th  of  the  5th  month,  1755. 

AARON  ASHBRIDGE. 


ABSTRACT  OF  A  TESTIMONY  FROM  THE  NA- 
TIONAL-MEETING OF  IRELAND,  HELD  INDUB- 
LIN,  CONCERNING  ELIZABETH  ASHBRIDGE. 

IN  the  year  1753,  apprehending  it  required 
of  her  to  visit  the  meetings  of  friends  in 
England  and  Ireland,  she  left  her  habitation, 


56 

with  the  consent  of  her  husband,  and  the  unity 
and  approbation  of  friends,  as  appears  by  her 
certificate,  and  performed  a  religious  visit  to 
many  meetings  in  this  nation,  to  the  general 
satisfaction  of  friends ;  wherein  she  endured 
so  much  bodily  hardship  in  travelling,  and 
underwent  so  much  spiritual  exercise  in  mind, 
that  she  fell  dangerously  ill  at  the  city  of 
Cork;  and  to  those  two  causes  she  always 
imputed  her  disease. 

After  recovering  so  much  strength  as  to  be 
able  to  proceed  on  her  journey,  she  left  Cork 
and  came  to  Waterford,  to  the  house  of  our 
friend  John  Hutchinson,  where  she  remained 
very  much  indisposed  for  the  most  part  of 
fourteen  weeks  ;  and,  in  that  interval,  was  at 
the  province-meeting  at  Clonmell,  where  she 
had  extraordinary  service.  From  thence  got 
to  the  county  of  Carlow,  and  to  the  house  of 
our  friend  Robert  Lecky  ;  whilst  there,  some 
expressions,  which  she  uttered  in  an  affecting 
manner,  were  taken  down  in  writing,  and  are 
as  follow. 

The  7th  of  the  fifth  month  1755,  Elizabeth 
Ashbridge,  being  sorely  afflicted  with  pain  of 
body,  expressed  her  fear  of  not  being  patient 
enough  under  it,  but  several  times  desired  it, 
saying, "  O  dearest  goodness,  grantme  patience 


57 
till  my  change  come,  and  then  enable  me  ;  and 
do  not  forsake  me,  Lord  of  my  life."  And, 
speaking  of  what  she  had  suffered,  said,"  words 
could  not  express,nor  thoughts  conceive,  what 
she  had  gone  through  these  seven  months  ;  for 
what  cause  the  Lord  only  knew."  Although  it 
had  been  so  with  her,  yet  she  would  not  have 
any  be  discouraged, u  for  hermaster"  ( she  said) 
"  was  a  good  master,  and  she  did  not  grudge 
suffering  for  him  ;  though  he  chastises  his 
children,  it  is  for  some  good  end  ;  sometimes 
for  their  own,  and  sometimes  for  the  good  of 
others.'*  And  said,  "  she  did  not  repent  com- 
ing into  this  nation,  though  she  was  so  tried, 
being  satisfied  she  was  in  her  place,  and  that 
it  was  the  requirings  of  him  who  had  suppor- 
ted her  to  a  miracle  :  and  now  it  looked  as  if 
two  poor  weak  women  were  sent  to  lay  down 
their  lives  in  the  cause  of  truth  :"  Or  to  this 
purpose ;  (her  companion  Sarah  Worral having 
departed  this  life  at  Cork  a  short  time  before) 
"  and  as  many  faithful  servants  had  been  suf- 
ferers in  this  land,  as  they  were  not  the  first, 
she  thought  they  would  not  be  the  last."  She 
mentioned  something  of  its  lying  heavy  on  the 
inhabitants  thereof,  if  there  was  not  an  amend- 
ment. But  for  those  that  had  put  their  hands 
to  the  plough,  she  desired  such  might  go  on 


58 

with  courage,  and  said,  "  God  was  on  their 
bide ;  and  that  it  was  happy  for  those  who 
had  remembered  their  creator  in  their  youth." 

Another  time,  when  in  extreme  pain,  she 
cried  out,  w  Lord,  look  down  upon  me;"  and 
begged,  "that  patience,  her  old  companion, 
might  not  leave  her;"  and  said,  "  although 
pain  of  body  was  her  portion  at  present, 
through  the  mercies  of  a  gracious  God  her 
mind  was  pretty  easy."  Though  sometimes 
she  feared  she  was  not  quite  fitted  for  that 
glorious  mansion  which  she  aimed  at,  and 
into  which  nothing  that  is  unholy  can  enter; 
yet  had  a  hope  it  was  not  in  wrath  she  was 
chastised,  for  she  had  to  acknowledge,  "  she 
felt  the  touches  of  divine  love  to  her  soul:" 
and  said,  "  she  loved  the  truth,  and  those  that 
loved  it  were  precious  to  her  life,  whether 
relations  or  others ;  and  that  she  had  sought 
it  from  her  youth,  and  was  thankful  for  being 
preserved  so,  as  not  to  bring  a  blemish  on  it, 
since  she  made  profession  thereof,  but  had 
done  what  she  could  for  it." 

A  friend  taking  leave  of  her,  she  told  him, 
"  Whether  he  heard  of  her  life  or  death,  she 
hoped  it  would  be  well."  Some  friends  being 
with  her,  she  said  something  of  the  singularity 
of  her  trials,  but  that  "  the  hand  that  permit- 


59 

ted  them,  had  an  indisputable  right ;"  to  which 
she  seemed  resigned,  whether  in  li:e  or  death, 
hoping  it  would  be  well.  She  said,  "  she  ioved 
the  truth,  and  it  had  been  her  support ;"  and 
desired  those,  that  had  begun  to  walk  in  it, 
"  to  keep  close  to  it,  and  it  would  never  leave 
them." 

She  seemed  thankful,  "  that  the  beauty  of 
this  world,  and  the  enjoyments  of  it,  were 
stained  in  her  view,  and  she  made  willing  to 
give  up  all ;  the  hardest  was  her  dear  husband, 
being  so  far  from  him  ;  but  even  that  was 
made  easier  than  she  could  expect."  Being 
wished  a  good  night's  rest ;  she  said,  "  she 
did  not  expect  to  be  free  from  pain,  but  that 
every  night,  that  the  Lord  sent,  was  good ; 
and,  though  uneasy,  hoped  they  all  would  be 
good  nights,  and  when  once  the  gulph  was 
shot,  she  should  have  rest." 

Speaking  to  a  friend,  she  said,  "  she  endea» 
voured  to  live  without  a  will ;  and  that  she 
hoped  she  had  born  her  afflictions  with  a 
degree  of  Christian  fortitude."  Being  in  great 
pain,  and  asked,  whether  she  would  be  settled  ? 
she  said,  "  None  could  settle  her  but  one  ;  and 
in  his  own  time,  she  hoped,  he  would  :"  Then 
cried  out, "Dearest  Lord,  though  thou  slay 
me,  I  will  die  at  thy  feet;  for  I  have  loved 


60 
thee  more  than  life."  She  spoke  affectionately 
to  a  friend  that  visited  her,  gratefully  acknow- 
ledging the  care  and  tenderness  shewn  to 
her,  and  counted  it  a  high  favour,  that  the 
hearts  of  her  friends  were  opened  to  receive 
and  sympathize  witli  her.  She  spoke  some- 
thing of  the  exercises  of  mind  she  went 
through  before  her  convincement,  and  the 
time  she  got  relief  out  of  great  distress,  and 
was  enabled  to  make  covenant  with  the  Lord ; 
"  which  time  she  still  remembered,  and  hoped 
she  should  never  forget,  being  desirous  often 
to  return  to  Bethel,  and  to  remember  the  time 
of  her  espousals."  She  acknowledged  the 
advantage  there  was  "in  being  deeply  tried, and 
that  it  was  the  way  to  be  enabled  to  speak 
comfortably  to  others. " 

Having  grown  weaker  for  several  days,  she 
departed  this  life,  in  a  quiet  frame,  the  1 6th 
of  the  fifth  month  1755,  and  on  the  19th  her 
corps  (accompanied  by  many  friends)  was 
conveyed,  in  a  solemn  manner,  from  our  friend 
Robert  Lecky's  to  Friends  Burying  Ground 
at  Ballybrumhill,  where  several  testimonies 
were  born  to  the  truth.— Thus  our  dear  friend 
finished  her  course. 


i'unted  by  John  Adatm, 


DATE  DUE 

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